


light my fire (and create a colourful future)

by oonymay



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Epistolary, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, In part - Freeform, Kinda, Letters, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22987975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oonymay/pseuds/oonymay
Summary: PROMPT:20th century. They stole moments with each other when they thought no-one was watching and penned illicit letters. If they got caught, they could die.To: SichengDetails of our conversation earlier: Taining, central market, walk towards the city square until you reach the post office. Follow the side street that goes along the back of it. Go alone, any time after nightfall and don’t be seen.Sicheng knows he shouldn't be here. And, yet, here he is. Ready to tread the line between what's legal and what's not, but maybe not quite so prepared for the man he meets there.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Qian Kun
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40
Collections: Winwin Fic Fest Round 1





	light my fire (and create a colourful future)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! To whoever prompted this, thank you so much for the submitting it! I hope that it doesn't disappoint you too much.
> 
>  **Prompt #:** A074  
>  **Member(s) Featured:** Kun/Winwin  
>  **Prompt:** 20th century. They stole moments with each other when they thought no-one was watching and penned illicit letters. If they got caught, they could die.  
>  **Pluses:** Set it in any place you want, Angst  
>  **Minuses:** Nothing!  
>  **Details:** No preference in rating  
>  **Notes:** Up to you to make it a sob fest or smile fest.
> 
> Some quick notes before you read this:  
> It touches very heavily on homophobia. Seriously, the whole plot is motivated by homophobia. So, if you're sensitive to that—which is absolutely understandable and not something you should feel bad about—I'd recommend either clicking off or enquiring further before reading.  
> Secondly, this is historical fiction. That was ,, only half researched. I was going to research more and then ,, I didn't. Surprise surprise. So, yes, there are absolutely creative liberties taken, but for the sake of the argument, this is set in late 1970s to early 1980s China.

**part 1**

> _To:_ unnamed
> 
> _From:_ unsigned 
> 
> _Date:_ 1977, May 19 (Taining)
> 
> Details of our conversation earlier: Taining, central market, walk towards the city square until you reach the post office. Follow the side street that runs along the back of it. Go alone, any time after nightfall and don’t be seen. 

Sicheng knows he should not be here. The air is thick with smoke, seedy with the smell of alcohol and cigarettes. Around him, sweaty bodies intertwine against walls as hands grope everywhere they can reach, pressing themselves into corners to offer themselves a little more privacy. It's only men here; men who don't care for women and have grown desperate enough that they're willing to risk everything for a few hours out of society's encroaching eye. 

He tries not to look, but his eyes stray in curiosity. It's the first time he's been here and he doesn't know if that excites or scares him more. He keeps a hat drawn low over his eyes, though, and the collar of an old shirt is turned up against his surroundings. It’s not a stylish look, but it’s practical for lying low. And, as he told himself a million times while following the crude instructions on his little scrap of paper, that’s all he wants to do; scope out what’s here. 

Technically, this bar (if it can be called that when it serves nothing except strong spirits aimed at letting patrons tune out the world for a few hours) is illegal. Everyone here, from the man behind the bar to the boy by the bin who still looks like a child, is in violation of the law. If a law enforcement member walked in, each person would be rounded up like cattle and herded to the nearest jail. 

Sicheng _knows_ this. He can taste an underlying tension in the air, sees it in the way each person in here holds himself a little too stiffly to be called relaxed. But, everyone here relies on mutual trust. He won’t tell on any of them; they won’t tell on him. Sicheng just has to pray that it will hold true. 

Pushing his way through the small crowd, Sicheng makes his way to the shabby bar. The man there looks him up and down and a lopsided smirk pulls his creased face into an ugly grimace. 

“First time here?” He gestures vaguely at Sicheng’s hat and coat ensemble. “They all dress like you on the first day.” Without waiting for a reply, he pulls a grubby-looking shot glass out from under the counter and pours a clear liquid into it. “You get one drink free, and then you pay after that, okay?” 

His words are thick with a dialect that Sicheng doesn’t recognise, but he forces himself to nod as he accepts the glass. There is a swooping in his stomach and a wave of nausea as he wonders what he has got himself into. 

He has work tomorrow. He needs to earn money for his parents back in Wenzhou. If he is found here, they will be disgraced and lose the income that is paying for bills and medication. _God, this was a mistake._ He stares into the liquid in his glass feeling nauseous. 

“Kun!” the bartender calls, pauses for a moment and then repeats. He turns back to Sicheng and leans an elbow on the bartop. “Kun’ll look after you. He knows his way around here.” 

Sicheng doesn’t have time to even think about an answer before a young adult appears next to the bartender. His hair sweeps to the side, obviously unstyled but neat nonetheless, and it perfectly highlights a grinning face. 

The bartender grunts as he sees him. “Take care of the new kid, why don’t you? Looks like he could use a helping hand.” The two exchange a look and exchange a few words that Sicheng doesn’t recognise. Slang, perhaps, or even a dialect too foreign to make out. 

The man—Kun—nods and the skin around his eyes creases as his smile grows. “Never been to a place like this before, huh?” he says as he rounds the counter and shows Sicheng to a quiet place by the wall.

Sicheng swills the liquor in his cup and can’t bring himself to make eye contact. “Is it that obvious?” 

“Hm, a bit,” Kun says, “You know the rules about coming here, right?” 

It’s a question, but Sicheng can hear something that sounds suspiciously like a threat hiding underneath Kun’s pleasant tone. He gives a dutiful nod. “Don’t talk about it to anyone.” Truth be told, he was never told that in as many words. In fact, he had only found this underground bar by a complete chance conversation. But, he figures it's common courtesy to keep the place a secret. 

Kun nods. “If you see people from in here out on the streets, pretend you don’t know them. Someone once joked that this place should be called the Net. Partially because we catch all the social deviants here, but partially because if any person makes a hole in it, then it’s going to fall apart for everyone in here.” He snorts and shakes his head. "Don't actually call it that, though, or someone might come at you."

The smirk on his face stops Sicheng from seeing if he was joking or not. A part of him does not want to know. The rest of him is too distracted by the soft wave in Kun’s hair that he had missed at first glance but _surely_ could not be natural. 

“Do you always talk to the new people?” Sicheng asks, absent-minded. He raises the glass to his lips and takes a swig of the alcohol. The bitter taste makes him gag and Kun laughs, tone light and musical, as he pats Sicheng on the back a few times. 

“Not always,” he says once Sicheng has managed to swallow his mouthful. “But I’m around here a lot. I’m good at making sure people know the rules. Making sure they know what they’re doing here…” He trails off and stares at Sicheng as though waiting for an answer. 

Sicheng traces a finger around the rim of the glass and considers a response. He knows what this place is, he knows why he is here. And yet, to say it out loud… It’s one step too far and too quick for a single night. 

Kun hums quietly, and it sounds like an acknowledgement. If Kun is here most nights, Sicheng supposes he is hardly the first person that Kun has caught in this position. He looks down and stares into the drink, trying to ignore the guilt and conflict building in his chest. 

They stick together that night. Kun does not press for answers, but instead lets their conversation drift elsewhere. Talking quietly, watching the other men in the basement coming and going, eventually leaving at some point in the dead of the night. 

“If you ever want to come back, I’ll probably be here,” Kun says as they stand in an alleyway a few meters away from the basement. “Just stick to the rules and you’ll always be welcome back.” 

Sicheng nods and pauses for a second before meeting Kun’s eyes. “I’m Sicheng, by the way.” 

Kun’s grin grows, although its hard to tell in the dim moonlight. “I’ll hope to see you back here at some point soon, then, Sicheng,” he says. He sounds genuine, too, and Sicheng’s heart makes an involuntary leap in his chest. 

> _To:_ unnamed
> 
> _From:_ Kun 
> 
> _Date:_ 1977, May 20 (Taining)
> 
> Sorry for stuffing this in your pocket when you weren’t looking… I enjoyed meeting you. Please remember, don’t tell anyone about it though. Hope to see you again at some point. 
> 
> Kun 

He comes back. Of course he does. Once, twice, three times, and then it just keeps on happening. Each time it gets a little bit easier to show his face at the bar and Kun still waits for him in the corner with a grin, a story and his hands cupped around a glass of something. 

“Work was horrible,” Sicheng complains as he hands over a few coins he had scrapped together in exchange for a cup filled with amber liquid. It tastes bad, but it takes the edge off the night. This is the one place he allows himself to occasionally splurge a little; he sends everything else except the bare minimum he needs to live back to his parents. 

Kun grins as he takes a sip of his own drink. “Why?” 

Sicheng tips his glass back and relishes the burn in his throat. “Too much to do, too few people to actually do it and no one gets paid enough. Same story all over, I suppose.” He shrugs and walks with Kun to a quieter area of the dingy basement. 

“Why did you come to Taining in the first place, then?” Kun asks as he settles his back against the wall. “You’re from Wenzhou, right? That’s way bigger than here.” 

“Someone said jobs paid better, so I came so I can earn some more.” It’s partially the truth, but only as much as Kun needs to know. While Sicheng likes Kun, they see each other every couple of days in a highly illegal setting. It's been mere weeks since he first came and although Kun is already arguably his closest friend in this new city, it doesn’t seem the best place to reveal his entire life story. 

Kun laughs. “Worked out well for you, then.” 

“It _does_ pay better,” Sicheng grumbles. “Just not by much.” Enough, though, to make the difference when sending money home to help his parents. He clears his throat and speaks again. “What did you say you do again?” 

“I didn’t,” Kun replies. It’s not a cold answer, but Sicheng takes the hint. 

Kun looks straight ahead, gazing across the crowd of people. There aren’t many but the room is small so it looks busy. The dim light and smoke only add to that by creating a haze that makes it hard to see to the other side. 

Sicheng’s eyes linger on Kun for a moment as he takes in the slope of his nose and elegant rise of his cheeks. By all means, he is a handsome person. When Sicheng indulges in fantasies in the dead of night, ones that he can only admit to having in this basement, Kun is the type of person who he might see there. 

Kun flicks his eyes to the side and catches Sicheng’s stare. “What’re you looking at?” he says with the barest hint of a smirk. 

Sicheng presses himself more firmly against the wall and turns his head in the other direction. “Nothing.” 

Neither of them says anything for a moment, although the low thrum of conversation in the room prevents silence. Sicheng watches the other people; he recognises some of them by now and even knows a few names. Still, he finds it interesting to watch them all mingle. 

Some just watch, others talk and a few seize the opportunity as they knot their fingers together and press themselves into the corners. It’s as strange as it is liberating. Sicheng has never seen anyone engage in much physical affection, let alone two males. 

“Do you think there are any people in here who love each other?” Sicheng asks, watching two men creep toward the doorway with the gap between their eyes a few centimetres short of safety once they're outside. 

Kun raises an eyebrow. “Why?” 

“No reason…” 

“I don’t think so, not really,” Kun says after a few seconds. “Everyone knows that you can’t fall in love here. You’re as good as dead if you do. People just come here to fuck and take the edge off it and then go back to their family and pretend that they’ve never heard of this place.” 

Sicheng nods towards the couple he was eyeing before. “What about them?” 

With a flat expression, Kun replies. “They’re probably going to have sex and never see each other again. That’s what most people do sooner or later.” 

“What?” Sicheng’s fingers tighten around the glass and his stomach churns. He understands what Kun is saying, but he doesn’t want to admit it. This place is a bizarre and very dangerous sanctuary; he wants to believe that it’s not all fleeting moments of lust and then denial. 

Kun’s face doesn’t change. “People come here to live out a fantasy for a few hours. Then, they return to their parents or wife and kid and that’s the end of it.” 

Sicheng watches them disappear out of the room and remains quiet for a moment. “Why, though?” 

With a snort, Kun gives him a disbelieving look. “You are aware that we are currently risking persecution by standing in this basement at midnight, right?” The expression turns sombre and he sighs before continuing. “People like us only have a few choices. You ignore until you die and never tell anyone, or you end up in places like this and risk everything.”

“I know that,” Sicheng says slowly, although his stomach rolls at the words when they’re said out loud. “It’s just… What did we ever do wrong?” 

Kun shrugs and turns away again. “Nothing. People just don’t like things they don’t understand.” 

“That’s stupid.” Sicheng’s mouth tightens to a grimace. 

Nodding, Kun still avoids looking at him. “Of course it is. But, what are we meant to do about it?”

> _To:_ Sicheng
> 
> _From:_ unsigned
> 
> _Date:_ 1977, July 8 (Taining)
> 
> Sicheng,
> 
> I literally put this note under your front door so you’d better make sure you get it. Whatever you do, don’t come for the next few nights. There were some weird people around last night and we’re not sure if they know where they were or if they might tip someone off. Don’t worry about us here, we’ll all be fine. I’ll put another note under your door if something happens. 

Perhaps going to that basement whenever he could was not such a good idea, because, after almost two months, Kun never seems to leave the back of Sicheng’s mind. He sits there, a face and gentle words, like an inescapable presence. 

Sicheng can’t even complain about it. Between the monotonous hours of work in a city where he knows next to no one, he might even say it’s nice to have something to preoccupy himself with. Ultimately, data entry work, even if it’s the best paying job he can currently find, will always be boring. A distraction is something of a blessing. 

He sits at his desk and copies down numbers into grid sheets for the meetings later that day. Around him, there is little noise except for the scratching of pens on paper and typewriter keys. Sicheng can’t help but glance around at his coworkers every now and again. 

Most people here keep to themselves. Their company doesn’t encourage lots of social mingling; the managers prefer that people work efficiently and to a high standard during work hours. But, Sicheng wonders about the people he works with, sometimes. _It’s strange_ , Sicheng often thinks, that he can work alongside these people every day and know absolutely nothing about them. 

He knows their names and their faces, but what about their lives? How many of them go home every night to perfect little families? How many of them are struggling to make ends meet? What secrets do they have? 

Sometimes, he wonders if any of them have visited that basement. Do any of them know Kun, too? The longer that Sicheng spends with him, the more he starts to doubt that anyone would. Kun is reclusive; it’s been months and he still doesn’t know what he does for a living or where he goes each night after he leaves the basement. Kun, meanwhile, hears almost every day about Sicheng's work complains and has even walked him home. 

One of his coworkers, one that he actually does know, pulls him aside during their allotted fifteen-minute lunch break. 

“I’m getting married,” he says without any preamble. 

A smile graces Sicheng’s face. “That’s great, Dejun. Is she nice?” 

Dejun’s face is carved as hard as rock. “I’ve only met her once for about half an hour. It was organised by the boss.” The tightness in his words gives away what his expression does not. 

Sicheng’s stomach swoops low. “That’s not…” He trails off, voice quiet. It’s common for marriages to be arranged with the workplace, neighbourhood or local community acting as informal matchmakers. For someone like Dejun, living hours away from his parents, he’s exactly the type of person to be targeted for those matches. 

Shrugging, Dejun avoids his eyes. “It’s whatever, I guess. She seems nice. She just moved here with her parents from my home province. People got talking, I guess, and…” He takes a deep breath and crosses his arms across his chest. 

“Dejun…” Sicheng says. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Dejun’s tone is carefully measured and he clears his throat before continuing, “You’re basically the only person I know here, though. I wanted to know if you’d come to the ceremony. You don’t have to or anything, but…” He looks away, bashful. 

Sicheng’s chest tightens in sympathy. He curls his hands into fists. “No, I’d like that…” A long minute passes as Sicheng tries to meet his eyes. “When’s the ceremony going to be?” 

Dejun sighs again. “A few months, I think. Hopefully, we might actually know something about each other by then…” He shakes his head and flexes his hands. 

Nodding, Sicheng mutters another congratulations and watches Dejun walk away with his shoulders slumped forwards. Sicheng bites his lip and does not move. It seems ridiculous that Dejun, who is barely old enough to marry at all, is going to be wedded someone he barely even knows. It’s not all together unusual but that doesn’t make it any less stupid. 

Not for the first time, he wonders what went so wrong that they ended up here. Surely, this isn't a fair way to live, where people get married to people they know and, meanwhile, others who love each other can't even hold hands without being in danger. 

There aren’t many things that Sicheng is more worried about than the prospect of marriage. Objectively, he knows that one day he’ll have to fulfil his duty as a filial son and find a woman to settle down with. The idea, though, is so unappealing that it makes his stomach curl. 

He would much rather spend the rest of his life with Kun. Even if it was only ever during cold, smoky nights in back alleyways and illegal basements. The memories of the time that they have spent together make him feel warm, like he’s eating his mum’s homemade dumplings at Chinese New Year. 

The thing is, Kun is special. He’s kind and, although he’s often cynical, he cares for people. He’s the first person that Sicheng has known like him, yes, but he’s also the first person he’s ever felt this attached to. Going back to him is like a drug he can’t quit, an infatuation he can’t escape. 

Maybe it’s just circumstance—two people pushed together, both of them at risk of exile or death if their secrets get outed—but Sicheng likes to think it’s something more than that. It’s not an attachment of convenience but something that would have evolved, anyway, in a different time or place. 

Maybe that’s why Sicheng can’t help but fall a little bit in love with him.

> _To:_ Dejun
> 
> _From:_ Sicheng
> 
> _Date:_ 1977, December 29 (Taining)
> 
> Dear Dejun,
> 
> Congratulations on your marriage. The ceremony was beautiful. Although I understand the circumstances were difficult, I really hope you’ll be happy together in the future. 
> 
> If you ever need some time out, please don’t hesitate to talk to me at work or otherwise. I may not be able to sympathise with everything you’re facing, but I can listen! 
> 
> Sicheng

“Do you think people like us could ever have a happy ending?” Sicheng asks one time. They’ve left the bar and sit on a flight of stairs in an alleyway. The rest of the lane is silent. Each time they say something, it rings around in a muffled echo. 

Kun contemplates him carefully, leaning his chin on his hand. “Not really, no.” In the dark, he has to strain to see what expression he wears, but Sicheng recognises the hardness in his voice. “If you get found out, you’re as good as dead. If you don’t, you marry and have to pretend to love someone for the rest of your life until you inevitably work yourself to death.” 

Sicheng hums. “What about in other places?” 

“What difference does it make?” Kun asks. His tone is gentle now, as if he’s trying to let Sicheng in on a hard truth. “I was born in this shitty city and I’ll probably be stuck here until I die.” 

Silence drifts between them. Sicheng gazes straight ahead into the darkness and sighs. The bite of winter picks at his hands and battles through the worn-down coat he’s owned since he stopped growing. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful, though?” 

Leaning back, Kun drawls when he speaks. “Wonderful? Sure, I guess. But it doesn’t change the fact that right now we’d get thrown into jail if someone reported that we met today. A few regulars disappeared last week because they met in a park. What good do dreams do if we’re apparently going to hell for thinking about them?” 

“They give us hope.” 

Kun scoffs. “And a fat lot of good hope does. We’re all as good as dead for being the way we are. If someone finds out, we would be. Dreams get us killed.” 

“They don’t have to, not forever,” Sicheng says. His fingers twitch and then he’s cradling Kun’s hand in his own. “One day, people like us will be able to walk around proudly. You’ll see.” 

A few leaves blow down the street and Kun does not try to move his hand. “Not here, though, and not anytime soon.” He lets out a long, slow breath and covers their tangle of fingers with his spare hand. He rocks them gently. “You can’t live your life waiting for a future that might never come.” 

“And you can’t live without ever seeing that it’s possible for things to change for the better.” 

Kun goes still for a moment. “It’s easier to be realistic than to be let down every time by false hope and unfulfilled whims.” 

With a small smile that Kun probably can’t make out in the dim light, Sicheng laughs lightly. “I suppose that’s where we differ, then. Hope is the only thing that keeps me going.” 

“Hope for what? A future where other people don’t have to live through the shit we do?” Kun straightens his arms behind himself and leans back. There is no scorn in his voice, although Sicheng can imagine the expression on his face might not be so open. 

Sicheng shrugs in response. “Hope that I’ll be stronger than the system. Even if I have to live here, even if it doesn’t change when I’m alive, I hope that I’ll be able to find my own ways of happiness within it.” 

> _To:_ Sicheng
> 
> _From:_ Kun
> 
> _Date:_ 1978, January 3 (Taining)
> 
> Sicheng, 
> 
> Thank you for remembering my birthday - it’s the first time in years that someone has made a fuss of it. Usually everyone is too preoccupied with New Years celebrations. It was very special to have you, Dejun and the others do something. 
> 
> Can you fill Dejun in about any details about the basement if he asks? You mentioned he’s married…? Make sure he knows that this has to stay underground. If he wants to come back, he’s welcome to. But make sure he knows the rules first. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you again—it really was a special evening. Perhaps we could find some time during the Chinese New Years celebrations…? If you have any off time from work, of course. 
> 
> Kun 

“I have to go back to Wenzhou.” 

“Why?” 

“My mother died. I need to help support my father, too.” 

“When do you leave?” 

“Next week.”

“I’ll miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you, too. You’re the only person I know like me.”

“I’m not here to fall in love, Sicheng. You know how it has to be.”

“But, you’ll write to me?” 

“Maybe.” 

> _To:_ Kun
> 
> _From:_ Sicheng
> 
> _Date:_ 1978, March 28 (Taining)
> 
> Kun, 
> 
> I’ve written my address down on the attached piece of paper and even attached some stamps, so you have absolutely no excuse not to send me anything! 
> 
> I’m sorry that I had to leave without a proper goodbye. I was trying to get back at least once more, but my father really needs extra help, so I’m going to have to leave earlier than planned. Meaning tomorrow morning… 
> 
> That’s why Dejun will give you this note. I’d give it to you myself if I could, but I don’t think I’ll have another opportunity to see you. 
> 
> (Actually, on that topic… I still don’t know your address? So, if you don’t tell me, I’ll have to send everything through Dejun. Please don’t make me do that. He’s sweet, but he’ll laugh at me forever). 
> 
> Really, though, please send a letter when you have a chance. I’ll miss you a lot once I’m back in Wenzhou… 
> 
> Sicheng 

  
  


**part 2**

> _To:_ Sicheng
> 
> _From:_ Baba
> 
> _Date:_ 1978, March 29 (Wenzhou)
> 
> Sicheng,
> 
> Dinner is on the stove top. You only need to reheat it a little bit. 
> 
> I’m sorry I couldn’t be here when you got back. Unfortunately, work is unrelenting and unable to be missed. It’ll be late when I get home. Don’t wait up. 
> 
> Eat well and I’ll see you in the morning. 
> 
> Baba 

Home isn’t quite the same anymore. His father works long, long hours in an attempt to bring in more money, while the absence of his mother is like a hole in his chest. Without the smell of her cooking or the light-hearted conversation of his parents in the evening, the tiny apartment feels hollow. A shell of what it was before he left a year ago. 

Sicheng spends the first few days lying on the floor in the living room. There won’t be an opportunity to start applying for jobs until the weekend is over. Even though work continues over the weekend for many people, everyone knows that you have the best chance of getting offered a job at the start of the new week. 

He whiles away the time wondering what is happening back in Taining. It’s been less than a week and yet he misses it like he’s been shot with a bullet through the stomach. What is Kun doing? What about Dejun and his new wife? Who is living in the one-room place he had been renting?

It’s strange to think that life continues on there as usual while he sits on the floor and wonders what he's meant to do. And yet, it’s something of a reassurance to imagine Kun and Dejun talking under the cover of night, protected from the cruelty of isolation by each other. 

Since he introduced them during the small gathering (a grand total of five people) he hosted for Kun’s birthday, the two became fast friends. Sometimes, Sicheng would feel the twang of jealousy as he watched them chat, but now, it’s like a security blanket to know that they’ll have the comfort of friendship with each other.

He can’t say the same for himself. Most of his childhood friends have moved away looking for better work. In the few days he’s been back, he hasn’t yet managed to get back in contact with the ones that remain. 

So, Sicheng sits. And he thinks. And he doesn’t write a letter yet, because there’s nothing much to say and stamps cost enough that he can’t afford to waste them.

There is complete silence from Taining. It’s not entirely surprising; it’s only been a few days and the time it takes for any mail to arrive is slow enough that Sicheng knows not to hope for too much. All he can do is wait and when Monday arrives, start wandering the streets and putting in his name at every firm he can, praying that someone will accept him. 

He tries not to think too much of what he’s left behind. The idea of losing everything that he built through the previous year is too painful. Losing Kun alone is a punch to the gut, a slap across the face, a knife twisting in the wound. 

It’s a pain that he adjusts to slowly as he reintegrates into life in Wenzhou. He finds a new job, this time in the government postal department, where the pay is abysmal but at least enough to keep food on the table and stop his father from literally working himself to the grave. 

That’s when the first letter arrives. 

> _To:_ Dong Sicheng
> 
> _From:_ Qian Kun 
> 
> _Date:_ 1978, April 7 (Taining - Wenzhou)
> 
> Dear Sicheng,
> 
> I hope this letter finds you well. 
> 
> I’m afraid that, for now, Dejun will have to remain our point of contact. Unfortunately, I don’t have an address that’s easily found. (Either way, I shall enjoy telling him to laugh at you all he wants.)
> 
> How is Wenzhou? Is your family well? Have you found a new job? 
> 
> Over here, we’re all okay. Same as usual. I suppose it’s only been about a week since you left at the time I'm writing this, so it would perhaps be more concerning if things had changed. 
> 
> Likewise, though, I will miss seeing you. 
> 
> Kun.
> 
> _ Attached note:  _
> 
> Sicheng, 
> 
> I can be the contact point for you and Kun - that’s fine! Also, you two are so sappy. :( It’s sweet and actually makes me smile so don’t you dare stop doing it. 
> 
> From, Dejun

> _To:_ Qian Kun
> 
> _From:_ Dong Sicheng
> 
> _Date:_ 1978, April 24 (Wenzhou - Taining)
> 
> Dear Kun, 
> 
> It’s so nice to hear from you. 
> 
> In Wenzhou, it’s so dull… Most people I knew have left because they needed a better paying job than any that can be found here. I’ve been fortunate to start working for the government, so I can at least say that I have a job and the pay is… enough. 
> 
> It’s not all terrible, though. I have managed to find one old friend who still lives locally enough that I can meet up with him. Thank heavens for Guanheng, because otherwise I think I really would go insane. Actually, he’s started sleeping at my family’s place a lot, because his place flooded a few days ago and the water won’t drain away. 
> 
> It’s strange being home. When I left, mama was sick, but she was still here. Now, she's gone and baba spends as much time as possible away from home because he doesn't want to think about it. I think he doesn’t want to make me worried, but I can see how sad he is. He works so late, too, that when he gets home, he usually falls asleep straight away so I barely see him at all now.
> 
> So, Guanheng and I mostly sleep in the other room, which is fine. It’s nice that he’s here, but I think I’d much rather have you. (If you meet, don’t ever tell him I said that). 
> 
> On a mostly unrelated note… Does Dejun read these letters or something? Because he took great relish in informing me that we 'made him smile' in the last note he sent me. 
> 
> I miss you. Hope to see you soon,
> 
> Sicheng

> _To:_ Dong Sicheng
> 
> _From:_ Qian Kun
> 
> _Date:_ 1978, May 20 (Taining - Wenzhou)
> 
> Sicheng,
> 
> As I write this, I believe it’s a year on from our first meeting. Interesting thought…
> 
> As for Dejun reading our letters, I wouldn’t put it past him. He is now missing his best friend, seeing as you have returned to Wenzhou; perhaps it’s to be expected that he’s looking for any other available source of entertainment. After all, he is now alone at work, which you spent many, many months recounting how terribly boring it is there.
> 
> So, I shall refrain from commenting on Dejun. 
> 
> I can, however, inform you that the government has the right to look through any letters sent or received. ~~So, please mind what you say.~~
> 
> Onto other topics. I’m glad you’ve managed to reconnect with Guanheng. Has his apartment drained yet? If the stories I hear about Wenzhou are true, I’m guessing not… Have you found any other friends who are still around? Aside from Guangheng, of course. 
> 
> I miss you, too. But, let’s not see each other too soon. 
> 
> Kun

> _To:_ Qian Kun
> 
> _From:_ Dong Sicheng
> 
> _Date:_ 1978, June 13 (Wenzhou - Taining)
> 
> Dear Kun,
> 
> You’re right. Guanheng’s place is still a little damp, but it doesn’t help that he lives in a basement with no windows or proper ventilation. Think the basement in Taining, but smaller and darker and wetter. So, yes, he’s still living with me in the other room.
> 
> I met a girl who I used to go to school with! But unfortunately no one else. Guanheng has introduced me to some of his friends around here, though, so at least I’m not totally alone anymore. 
> 
> Even so, I wish I could see you again. Why do you not want to meet soon? I miss talking with you so much… If I had any other way of saying it, I wouldn’t use a letter, but unfortunately this is my best option to let you know how much I want to see you. It’s only been a few months and I feel like I’m going crazy when I’m not able to see you. I can’t talk to anyone here the way I could talk to you. 
> 
> You mentioned it’s been just over a year. Interesting thought indeed. It’s strange how quickly you can become dependent on someone, isn’t it? I can’t imagine not having you anymore. I suppose if I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t know what I was missing, but I think I might still know that I was missing someone. 
> 
> But, government reading our letters, huh? I think we’d have to be unlucky! I work in the mail distribution sector of the government (grouping everything to where they’re being sent) and there are so many letters! I bet they do read letters, but surely that’s unlikely at best. 
> 
> (To the government official inevitably reading this, hello! This isn’t criticism, merely a discussion of probability!)
> 
> In any case, back to Guanheng’s friends. One actually lived in Taining for a while. I know Taining is a big place, but have you heard of Xuexi? Wong Yukhei? He got stuck on the wrong side of the border at some point… Anyway, he travelled quite a bit and was in Taining for a few years, apparently. He’s the person Guanheng crashes with when he’s not at my place. 
> 
> I still miss you and I hope to hear from you soon.
> 
> Love,
> 
> Sicheng
> 
> _ Attached note:  _
> 
> Dejun,
> 
> I hope you’re well. In the nicest possible way, my letters are not your entertainment source. 
> 
> (Thanks for being my contact point).
> 
> Sicheng

> _To:_ Dong Sicheng
> 
> _From:_ Qian Kun
> 
> _Date:_ 1978, July 9 (Taining - Wenzhou)
> 
> Sicheng,
> 
> Even if it’s not likely, please be careful what you write. The things in your last letter… That’s a convictable offence. Don’t tempt fate; it never fails to rise to the occasion. 
> 
> Moving on…
> 
> I’m afraid I’ve never met a Wong Yukhei. There are a lot of people in Taining, and I tend towards knowing a fairly select group. I’m glad that you’re making friends there, though. It’s nice to have people to associate with outside of work. 
> 
> Here, too, I’ve met some new people. A person named Li Yongqin has joined in often meeting with myself and Dejun. He’s very talkative, incredibly open and from Thailand originally. It’s nice having some more people to talk to.
> 
> That being said, some people have stopped coming recently. I suppose I shouldn’t say too much about it in a letter, but… I’m sure you catch my drift. 
> 
> Kun
> 
> _Attached note:_
> 
> Sicheng,
> 
> Kun told me to be careful about what I write in my letters, but I thought you should know anyway. 
> 
> People have gone missing recently. It’s possible there’s a mole, but no one actually wants to say that out loud. Either way, please be careful. The people who are connected to this place generally don’t come back once they leave. 
> 
> I think Kun is scared. Maybe we all are a little bit. I’m going to stop going, I think. I can’t put my family in danger any more. I’ll still always talk to you and Kun, but there are too many people who I need to keep safe for me to keep putting my personal wants over the needs of the people who rely and depend upon me. 
> 
> Dejun 

  
  
Sicheng reads Dejun’s letter with an ache in his stomach. He knew exactly what he was getting himself into when he first walked into that basement, but somehow, it had seemed easy to play down the risk involved.

Disappearances may not be normal, but they’re not uncommon. It’s a part of life that he’s just grown up with. 

Sicheng doesn’t want to get anyone else in trouble. He works hard, maintains respectable relationships with his coworkers and tries to fly under the radar as much as possible whenever they talk about arranging marriages.

But, he can’t stop sending the letters. It’s an insatiable itch, something he can’t resist, the one guilty pleasure that he cannot deny himself even though he knows it risks their jobs, reputations and (limited) freedoms. 

Kun doesn’t stop replying, either. A few months in, he gives Sicheng an address so that they can keep Dejun clear of any risk. 

(Dejun, apparently, still goes to the basement every now and then. He’s fully aware of the risks he’s participating in. But he’s also married and supporting an elderly mother and his frail in-laws, none of whom can work themselves. Sicheng can’t stomach the thought of continuing to put him in a chain that could implode at any minute for any longer than he originally had to be there). 

The letters become more frequent, sometimes as often as once every two weeks when the postal service is going quickly. The box where Sicheng hides them all becomes fuller and fuller until he has to start weighing the lid down with a heavy book to keep it closed.

Sicheng grows braver, too. His paragraphs grow more daring, slowly creeping into the territory of danger and conviction if they were to be read and tracked by authorities. He cannot bring himself to care, though; those letters are the one thing that give him the willpower to keep going every day. 

> _To:_ Qian Kun
> 
> _From:_ Dong Sicheng
> 
> _Date:_ 1978, December 19 (Wenzhou - Taining)
> 
> Dear Kun,
> 
> How are you? 
> 
> It’ll be your birthday, soon. So, happy birthday! I hope you have fun, even though I know you’ve said you don’t often enjoy yourself on your birthday. It’s hard to give you anything special when we live so far away, so I’ve put some more stamps in this letter. I hope that you can use them. 
> 
> I really miss you. Can you believe it’s been almost a year since we last saw each other? I wish I could come back to Taining, even if only for a few days so I could meet you again.
> 
> I really want to hug you. I miss talking with you. 
> 
> Do you want to know something funny? I think I might love you. Sometimes at night, I think about when we were together and I wish more than anything to go back to that. I know you said that this couldn’t happen, but I think it has anyway. 
> 
> I’m not asking you to feel the same way. I just don’t want to keep it a secret any longer. Every part of my life is surrounded by lies because there are so many things that we’re not allowed to say out loud. I don’t want to keep secrets from you, too. 
> 
> I know the dangers. I know what I am risking by writing this. But, I also know that I face this danger in any circumstance where I allow myself to be who I am. I would rather let myself have a few paragraphs of truth than submit to a life of secrecy forever. 
> 
> I know this is selfish, but even if you don’t reciprocate, please don’t stop writing. ~~I don't think I could cope.~~ I’d miss you too much if you did. 
> 
> Love,
> 
> Sicheng. 

> _To:_ Dong Sicheng
> 
> _From:_ Qian Kun
> 
> _Date:_ 1979, January 29 (Taining - Wenzhou)
> 
> Dear Sicheng,
> 
> Happy Chinese New Year and thank you for the birthday wishes. The stamps will certainly come in use—thank you very much for them. You are right; I don’t tend to enjoy my birthday, and particularly not when last year is the standard I have to match it against. This year was very quiet. Yongqin was here, although Dejun is still, rightfully, keeping his distance. It was made better by your letter, though. 
> 
> I will not stop writing, though. It would not be right when I feel the same way. 
> 
> What I told you was true: I’m not here to fall in love. It is too dangerous for people like us. I doubt that we will ever see a time when it is safe for people like us. But, apparently the heart pays little mind to those dangers. 
> 
> Because, Dong Sicheng, I think I might love you, too. 
> 
> If letters are the safest way to say this that we have, then I suppose that will be our best option. But, this risks everything. Please understand that. I love you, and as much as I want to say that, I will not do so again if this puts you in a situation that could bring you any more harm. 
> 
> Kun

> _To:_ Qian Kun
> 
> _From:_ Dong Sicheng
> 
> _Date:_ 1979, February 18 (Wenzhou - Taining)
> 
> Dear Kun, 
> 
> Your letter made me cry, but in a good way! 
> 
> I want to see you even more, now. Talk to you, touch you, maybe even kiss you… I get butterflies even thinking about it. But, I know it’ll be even more wonderful when we do meet again. 
> 
> Maybe I can come to Taining at some point soon… Or, perhaps you could come to Wenzhou? If you’re ever able to come here, you could stay with me. Although, if I do come to Taining, I suppose I could also see Dejun again…?
> 
> Sorry, I’m rambling a little… I’m writing this immediately after reading your letter! I couldn’t wait to send a reply, and I’m already waiting for your reply. 
> 
> To diverge quickly, we both know letters aren’t foolproof, but now that I’ve read your letter, it would hurt too much to not be able to say I love you. You are all I can think about and I need to be able to tell you that. 
> 
> As I’ve said, I work in the distribution of post. So, I can easily bypass at least the first few rounds of the process if I want to. It’s not perfect, but it is as good as we have right now. Honestly, I’m happy with that. I’d rather have this than nothing. 
> 
> (Besides, now that Dejun isn’t in the letter sending process, it’ll be okay, that’s one less person who can possibly be implicated.)
> 
> My brain feels backwards right now, though, and my stomach is turning inside out. In the best way possible, of course. You make me so happy. Thank you. 
> 
> I suppose this comes across as overly dramatic. I don’t mean to be, and as I said, I’m writing this without having thought it through and on an emotional high. But, I’ve never felt this way about anyone and now you’ve said you love me in return? I can’t actually put onto paper everything I’m feeling right now. 
> 
> I’m desperate to see you again. I love you.
> 
> Love, 
> 
> Sicheng
> 
> _ Attached note:  _
> 
> To --,
> 
> I don’t know who you are because Sicheng won’t tell me. But, he was smiling more than I’ve seen in months when he was reading your letter and wouldn’t stop for hours afterward. So, I hope that whoever you are, you know that you make him very happy. 
> 
> I put this in Sicheng’s letter when he was sleeping! I think he’s planning to put it into the system tomorrow when he goes to work. If you find this note, Sicheng, before you send it, you’d better not take it out! 
> 
> Guanheng. 

> _To:_ Dong Sicheng
> 
> _From:_ Qian Kun
> 
> _Date:_ 1979, March 8 (Taining - Wenzhou)
> 
> Dear Sicheng, 
> 
> Your letter makes me smile, too, and feel things that I can’t write down. It doesn’t sound dramatic, just sudden. It’s easier to throw yourself into something fully and abruptly when you have nothing else to lose. 
> 
> I look forward to seeing you again, too. Although, it’s difficult to say when exactly that will be. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to travel to Wenzhou anytime soon. (Although, I will do so one day, if only to meet Guanheng. He seems sweet). I don’t want you to waste money to come back to Taining, either—It sounds like your father still needs your support. 
> 
> But, I still have you on my mind, too. I want to feel you, too. Touch you and know that you’re mine. Perhaps that’s too much… But, you’re on my mind, too. 
> 
> Please don’t risk your safety by sending letters through improper processes. But, I should say, I couldn’t bear to stop writing to you now, either. 
> 
> I look forward to hearing from you. 
> 
> I love you, too. 
> 
> Kun
> 
> _ Attached note 1:  _
> 
> Dear Sicheng, 
> 
> Kun won’t let me read your letter. Or his. Although I did get an eyeful of Guanheng’s, whoever that is. I don’t see Kun often, though, so I only have a few minutes to write this because I’m asking him to send it with his letter. 
> 
> But, what did you write? Because, he’s all giggly now. It’s weird. Sweet, I suppose? But weird. Either way, keep it up. He’s actually smiling again and he hasn’t done that properly in months.
> 
> Love,
> 
> Dejun
> 
> _ Attached note 2:  _
> 
> To Guanheng, 
> 
> I have no idea who you are, but I read the letter you wrote to Kun. (I’m friends with him and Sicheng). You definitely have the right ideas! It might entertain you to know that Sicheng’s letters make Kun the same way you described Sicheng in your note. 
> 
> Dejun

Kun’s letters become Sicheng’s source of sanity. Work is dull at the best of times, but it demands longer and longer hours that cut into any time he is able to spend with Guanheng and Yukhei. 

At work, he preoccupies himself with coaching the newest recruit, a young kid barely out of compulsory schooling named Yang Yang. At home, he cooks for his father and Guanheng who appears to have moved in almost permanently. One of the many curses of summer is rain that feels almost incessant. Guanheng’s basement is nearly always flooded now. 

He barely sees Yukhei anymore. Between work and the duties he has at home, there’s scarcely time to make his away across the city. 

So, Kun’s letters become the thing he is always waiting for. Even though they’re not always long, they bring him happiness that seems so hard to find in most other avenues. 

Sometimes, Guanheng watches over his shoulder, but Sicheng tends to shield what he writes. It’s easier to enforce a blanket rule of privacy than make concessions for certain people only. 

> _To:_ Dong Sicheng
> 
> _From:_ Qian Kun
> 
> _Date:_ 1980, March 17 (Taining - Wenzhou)
> 
> Dear Sicheng,
> 
> Is your father feeling better? You mentioned in your last letter that he was unable to go into work for a few days…? I hope that he is. 
> 
> It’s rained a lot here lately. Almost too much; the drains aren’t working quick enough so there are puddles festering everywhere. The basement has been unofficially shut because there’s water covering the entire floor. 
> 
> But it’s alright. Now that Dejun has suitably distanced himself from the basement, it’s easier to spend time together without risking association so much. I actually met his wife for the first time the other day. (Chunhua, I believe?) She’s very sweet—not as much as you, though—and seems to know exactly what’s going on.
> 
> I suppose it didn’t help that we were with Yongqin. He really doesn’t seem to try very hard at subtly, which I suppose isn’t the end of the world for him, given he’ll be back in Thailand by the time you read this letter. 
> 
> Otherwise, it’s been quiet around here. No back thing in itself, but a little boring. I hope things are more interesting in Wenzhou. 
> 
> I’m still missing you, though. I’ve been telling you that I love you for longer in letters than I knew you in real life. I hope we see each other soon. It’s high time I get to say those words to you in person. I think they’d be much sweeter then, don’t you? 
> 
> Love,
> 
> Kun
> 
> P.S. Dejun keeps pestering me to ask you for the best way to contact Guanheng. Not to pressure him, of course, but I think Dejun wants more people to talk to. His parents are asking about having grandchildren and he and Chunhua haven’t had sex. They haven't even kissed since their wedding. He just wants to find ways to get away from it all. (Don’t pressure Guanheng into writing if he doesn’t want to and don’t tell him what I just wrote. I imagined you might be interested to know, though, given that you’re quite close). 

> _To:_ Qian Kun
> 
> _From:_ Dong Sicheng
> 
> _Date:_ 1980, April 8 (Wenzhou - Taining)
> 
> Dear Kun,
> 
> Unfortunately, life is dull in Wenzhou, too. It’s actually not rained so much recently, which is strange. But, it’s good for my father’s recovery, so I’m certainly not complaining. He’s feeling better now, so he’s started going back to work even though I made him reduce his hours. I’ve taken on more work to make up the difference, but I’d rather do that than face any alternative. 
> 
> Will you be able to keep in touch with Yongqin? You’ve spoken about him a lot, so I imagine it’ll be quite a loss now that he’s gone. 
> 
> Almost the opposite has occurred here. Guanheng has officially moved out of his apartment and into mine. He already spends so much time here and we’ve got enough space, so it made sense. It’s nice, too! Another person so share the cooking duties with! But, because his place spent so much time underwater, it’s pretty nasty—mould and stuff, you know? So we’re cleaning it up when we have time so that he’ll be able to sell it or something.
> 
> Actually, there has been one mildly interesting thing that happened. I found the local equivalent of the basement. It’s bigger than the one in Tainimg, but in my opinion, not nearly as nice. Maybe that’s just me being biased because you’re not there. 
> 
> This one meets in an old warehouse that was closed down a while back and no one new started using it. 
> 
> When I went there, I mentioned you. Not directly, don’t worry! Or at least said I had someone I loved back in Tianning. The person I told gave me such a strange look. I get what you mean, now, when you say that no one seems to go to these places to fall in love. Most people go to get it out of their systems and then just… go back to pretending that they don’t feel this way. 
> 
> It makes me so happy that I found you, a person who I really could fall in love with. And it also makes me so excited to see you again. When we do, I’m going to take you to pieces and put you back together again. Feel you under my hands. Know that you’re mine and I’m yours and that it’s so much more than a one-night arrangement. 
> 
> I suppose in a strange way, we’re lucky that neither of us are married and we have the freedom to do that. Many others wouldn’t have that opportunity.
> 
> But, the fact that I do makes me so blessed. I love you so much that it hurts and even though we don’t know when it’ll be yet, I’m counting the days down until I can see you again.
> 
> All my love,
> 
> Sicheng 
> 
> _Attached note:_
> 
> Dear Dejun, 
> 
> I’ve enclosed a note from Guanheng. He lives with me, so address any letters for him to me. 
> 
> But don’t forget to write to me, too!! I’ve missed hearing from you for the past few months. If you want, you can always tell me anything—maybe an opinion of someone who’s not directly connected to a situation might be able to help. 
> 
> Love,
> 
> Sicheng 

> _To:_ Dong Sicheng
> 
> _From:_ Qian Kun
> 
> _Date:_ 1980, April 28 (Taining - Wenzhou)
> 
> Dear Sicheng,
> 
> I’m glad that you found the group in Wenzhou. Are you going often? Please don’t put yourself in any danger. It already kills me to have to wait for your letters. It’d hurt so much more if one day the letters stopped coming. 
> 
> Yongqin has returned now, yes. We can send letters, but I’ve heard it’ll take months to do a single round. We’ve been lucky with letters going province to province, haven’t we? When they go overseas, I’m certain that they must all be monitored and read. Quite aside from that, stamps for overseas cost a fortune, so I don’t imagine our communications will be frequent. We never expected they would be, though. 
> 
> Dejun seems much more relaxed since he received your note. I don’t know if he’s replied to you yet, but if he hasn’t, I’d say you can expect a letter within the next few weeks. He’s had a difficult time, but putting it all into paper in a letter seems to help an awful lot. 
> 
> I can’t wait to see you, too. Is it too crass to say that I often wonder about what our first time might be like? Fast or slow? Rough or gentle? Perhaps I’m letting my mind get away from me. You can be certain, though, I’m looking forward to it. 
> 
> I don’t know when I’ll be able to come to Wenzhou, and I’d advise against coming to Tianning right now. The rain has completely washed out a lot of the areas surrounding the city, and it’s extremely hard to get in or out right now, or so I hear. That’ll be why this letter will take longer than usual to reach you. 
> 
> In any case, it’s something I look forward to. I’m desperate for something as simple as listening to your voice again and remembering the exact shade of your eyes. 
> 
> It will never be easy for us. We both know that. But, you were right all those months ago that it’s times like these where hope keeps us going. I don’t think I ever understood what that meant until I fell in love with you. I know it won’t be soon, but I am hoping to find a day in the future where we will see each other again. 
> 
> Love,
> 
> Kun

> _To:_ Qian Kun
> 
> _From:_ Dong Sicheng
> 
> _Date:_ 1980, May 17 (Wenzhou - Taining)
> 
> Dear Kun,
> 
> Hope is certainly the most important thing. I know that you don’t always believe in it, but I’m glad you can find some kind of use for it. Hope to see you is what keeps me going, too, because God only knows how desperate I am whenever I think about you. 
> 
> Our first time… When we inevitably meet up again—because we will, and it will be amazing—we’ll make it perfect for us. Slow and sweet if you want it, or hot and fiery. Either way, we’ll make it what we want. 
> 
> But in possibly the worst segue ever attempted, moving to the Wenzhou basement equivalent… Don’t worry about me! I don’t go there often. When I do, I only want companionship and someone who I can tell about how much I love you, honestly. After all, you and the people there are the only people who I can safely tell. 
> 
> But, really, it’s no more frequent than one every week. I’ve got to be at home for Dad and Guanheng, anyway! 
> 
> It’s strange, though. I found someone else there who came from Fujian a few weeks ago. (Fuzhou, I think…) But, he said there were troubles in the north-west areas, which I know is where Tianing go is located. So, I’m sending the warning right back to you. 
> 
> Please be careful. I think I’d lose my mind if I stopped hearing from you now. 
> 
> Lots of love,
> 
> Sicheng

He never gets a reply. 

**part 3**

> _To:_ Dong Sicheng
> 
> _From:_ Xiao Dejun
> 
> _Date:_ 1980, July 23 (Taining - Wenzhou)
> 
> Sicheng,
> 
> The basement was discovered and raided a while ago. I haven’t seen Kun (or anyone else) since then. Please do not send any more letters to him for now. I worry that they’ll trace them back to you.
> 
> Dejun.

Sicheng’s world falls apart in the space of one letter and Guanheng has a front-row seat as Sicheng stumbles to the bathroom and retches into the toilet. The paper hangs from slack fingers and his eyes burn as if he’s rubbed salt in them as he rocks on the floor. 

“What’s wrong?” Guanheng asks, frantic, a hand flitting between Sicheng’s arm, shoulder and back. His voice is worried, but the sentiment is lost on Sicheng as Dejun’s words churn through his mind like sour milk. “Sicheng? Ge?” 

A lump grows in Sicheng’s throat. He cannot get words out. His mind spirals and bile rises in his throat. Twisting out of Guanheng’s touch, he gags again. 

Sicheng knows that Kun practically lives in that basement. If it’s been raided, he can’t think of a single scenario where Kun would not have been roped into it somehow. And, _God_ , he knows exactly the sort of thing that is going to happen as a result of that. 

He takes a shuddering breath, struggling to get oxygen through his system, and the tears finally fall. Once one comes, they all do and Guanheng’s frantic words pick up pace. 

Sicheng wraps his arms around his knees and sobs. His stomach aches, his chest feels like it's being crushed and all the tell-tales of an oncoming headache have appeared within the space of seconds. 

He thinks back to the last letter he sent and his stomach drops through the floor. It contains exactly the sort of words that would lead to conviction. Was this his fault? Were their letters discovered? What if it’s he has played a part in this? The idea makes him feel even worse and his head throbs as his tears grow louder. 

Guanheng settles into a position beside him and gingerly wraps an arm around his shaking shoulders. With careful hands, he pulls the letter out of Sicheng’s grasp and scans it quickly. 

For a long minute, he doesn’t say anything. Then, in a soft voice, he begins. “What did you do while you were in Taining?” The letter is vague enough to not reveal anything, but Guanheng has also been living with him since he moved back to Wenzhou. He’s too smart to have not picked out something. 

Sicheng cannot answer immediately, and instead buries his head into the crook of Guanheng’s neck. His heart feels like it has been ripped out and trampled upon. 

He’s lost Kun. He has no way of finding out where he is or what has happened. The letter from Dejun is dated to almost a month previously; anything could have happened during that time and Sicheng had absolutely no way of knowing. 

And, now, they’re separated. Not just in distance, like they had been for the two previous years, but in every single sense of the word. Sicheng has lost the one person he loved more than anyone else. 

His hands tremble as he takes the note back. He stares down at it and tears splash onto it, making the ink bleed. 

“Tell me who Kun is,” Guanheng says. He’s regained control and the words are perfectly level. They don’t betray a single hint of emotion. Perhaps it's meant to be stabalising, but it has no impact on Sicheng who is still trying to wrap his mind around everything.

Sicheng traces the edge of the paper with a finger as he hiccoughs an answer out. “I love him.” His dissolves into uncontrollable tears again. Years of pent-up stress over words he could never say out loud spill out of him in droves. All Guanheng can do is cradle him and wait for him to calm down enough to speak again. 

In the tiny bathroom that has no window to judge the time, Sicheng does not know long passes before he can breathe again. His eyes feel simultaneously dry and sticky and his throat is coated in glass shards when he attempts to speak. 

“Kun…” He pauses and heaves out another cough. 

Guanheng rubs circles onto his back. “Who’s Kun?” 

“I met him in Taining,” Sicheng says slowly. Each syllable pulls at his raw throat, but it doesn’t come near to the level of pain and sickness that fills up his stomach and chest. “In the basement.” 

“What’s the basement?” 

Sicheng swallows. He has nothing left to lose. It’s not worth trying to hide it anymore, not when Guanheng has just sat with him through a breakdown in the bathroom. “The place where people like me go.” He turns desperate eyes to Guanheng, begging him to understand so that he won’t have to say the words out loud. 

Guanheng, though, returns a completely blank look. Sicheng turns to look at the floor as he whispers. “People who like men like they should like women.” 

He feels Guanheng stiffen and braces. But nothing happens. Guanheng relaxes again and resumes rubbing circles on Sicheng’s back. His voice betrays nothing when he speaks. “You met him there? In the basement?” 

Sicheng nods. His stomach rolls. Is that it? Is Guanheng really not going to make any other comment about it?

“How long have you loved him?” Guanheng says. There is emotion in his voice this time, but it lies somewhere between pity and understanding. Sicheng cannot detect a single hint of disgust or anger like he had expected and he almost cries again when that processes in his mangled brain. 

He doesn’t, though, and instead latches onto a few seconds of silence before answering. “Since I met him, maybe. Definitely since I left. And then he said it back a year and a half ago.”

Guanheng nods slowly. “I’m sorry…” 

A sob wrenches itself from Sicheng’s throat. “I should have known something was wrong. I haven’t got a letter in almost three months.” He squeezes his hands into fists and lets his nails cut into his palm. “I thought the fucking post was just being slow.” 

“You couldn’t have known,” Guanheng says, placating. 

Sicheng shakes his head, frantic. “I should have.” 

Guanheng sighs and wraps both of his arms around Sicheng. He pulls him close. “It’s not your fault.” 

“You can’t know that.” His voice cracks on the words as more tears leak from his eyes. “It might have been my letters that caused the raid. Or they might have found my letters afterwards. I might have killed the only man I ever loved.” 

Guanheng hugs him tighter. “It’ll be alright.” 

They both know it won’t be. If it was a raid like Dejun described, no one is getting out easily and if Kun was involved which seems almost certain… Sicheng’s stomach lurches and he lets himself be held by Guanheng as he bursts into tears again. 

There is a gaping hole in his chest, shaped like Kun. Every day it leaks blood and no one, not even Guanheng who is the only person who knows what happened, is able to patch it. 

Sicheng watches the world turn grey. He stops going to the Wenzhou alleyway altogether; he can’t find the will to leave the house on the best of days, let alone at night after he gets back from work. 

At work, the sight of the mail he has to sort makes him sick. All day, every day he battles nausea that makes him unable to enjoy the short breaks they’re given. He drags his feet as he walks around and even Yang Yang, usually ever-excitable with seemingly endless energy, looks dejected whenever he finishes a conversation with him. 

Sicheng cannot bring himself to care. 

It’s worse at home. Without Sicheng actively stopping him, his father has returned to working ridiculous hours. Guanheng has always left early and got home late for his job, too. So, Sicheng spends countless hours lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling. 

He has no interest in doing anything else. The whole time, his stomach rolls in what Sicheng thinks could be guilt, but honestly doesn’t want to put thought into actually understanding. 

Guanheng takes pity on him. He usually does the cooking lets Sicheng lie there, lost in thoughts and rapidly losing the will to even get up in the mornings. 

They say life will go on, but it doesn’t seem to. Each day that passes seems to make it worse as Sicheng counts the number of ways he could have made a difference, could have found a way to change this outcome, could have found a way to live out a happily-ever-after with Kun that they would have never been allowed.

It’s too easy to get lost in the wormhole. 

Nothing changes. Months drag on in a blur that Sicheng cannot pull apart. He forgets what he did yesterday and would not be able to say what he needs to do tomorrow, either. 

It just hurts so much. He hasn’t seen Kun in years, and his letters only came once a month, but he was a constant presence in his mind and heart that kept him going. He was the source of hope that Sicheng clung to. 

For the first time, he begins to wonder if Kun was right. If hope is foolish when it gets taken away in such cruel, twisted ways. When he thinks of the dreams he used to have, where they met up again and things magically worked out, he feels sick. The sight of their box of letters is the only thing that makes him feel worse.

Every bit of his body aches with what he has lost.

But, in many ways, he prefers to feel that agony than to think about what might have happened to Kun. It’s a pathway he ventures down all too often because he knows the government is neither kind nor forgiving. Those who disappear by their hand rarely come out of same, if they reappear at all. The though of what Kun might be facing in there is even more horrible than everything else combined. 

He doesn’t have the will to keep himself busy enough to stop the thoughts, so instead, he stews in them. Each day, he feels worse and worse and simply accepts that perhaps Kun was right. This is why people like him, like Kun, can’t fall in love. This is why they can’t rely on hope. 

Every time they think they get close to a tiny bit of hope to cling on to, it gets snatched away from between their fingers. 

  
  


Nothing changes until it does. 

Sicheng is curled up in the corner of the room. He can’t sleep—he doesn’t sleep much at all nowadays—but neither can Guanheng. The thunder is monstrous tonight, and they’re both manoeuvred into uncomfortable positions to avoid the old metal buckets that are catching drips that result from a leaky roof that their landlord won’t fix. 

It’s late. Sicheng doesn’t have a clock—even if he did he wouldn’t be able to read it in this light—but he knows it’s some indecent hour in the middle of the night. It’s been raining the entire day and since night fell, the downpour has only grown heavier. 

His mind, like always, buzzes with Kun while his body is completely apathetic. In the background, he can hear his father snoring through the thin walls. If he looks, he can see Guanheng's eyes glint in the small amount of moonlight that shines through an uncovered window, so he knows he’s not alone tonight. 

Amid the thunderous, Sicheng notices a new sound. _Knocking_. Or something that sounds very like it. 

His stomach freezes over as he bolts into a seated position. Guanheng startles at the movement and sits up, too, looking bleary but alert. 

The knocking starts again. Sicheng turns, dread filling him, toward the door. There’s no denying where it is coming from. Someone is standing outside his door in the middle of the night, trying to come in. 

Sicheng wants to vomit. A part of him has wondered if this would happen for months. If Kun had been caught, if their letters had been read, surely it wouldn’t be so hard to trace them back to Sicheng. 

He has breached some sort of weird middle ground. While he knows he has people relying on him and can not afford to be caught, he is unable to bring himself to care. All he wants is to be with Kun again. 

Guanheng creeps across the floor until he is right next to Sicheng. 

“Go to the bedroom,” Sicheng whispers. He pushes Guanheng’s shoulder lightly. “I’ll answer the door.”

Guanheng looks at him like he’s just declared he’s moving to the moon. “Are you insane?” he hisses, and there’s honest to God irritation in his voice, “I’m not leaving you alone here.”

“They’re probably only after me,” Sicheng returns, “And someone needs to help baba. There’s no point in getting caught up in this when you don’t need to be.” That might be the most he’s said at one time since that wretched letter from Dejun arrived all those months ago. 

Guanheng’s glare turns cold, but he does not argue. Even he knows when a hard line has been reached, and he’s smart enough not to push it. He still shows no signs of moving, though, and the knocks on the door grow faster. 

Sicheng swallows and crawls to the door to press his ear against it. 

The knocks stop and Sicheng can hear through the door into the hallway again. For the second time that night, he freezes. 

A sob. 

_Oh, God_. 

Without even thinking about it and completely ignoring the horrified whimper Guanheng makes behind him, Sicheng throws the door open. His mind is running at a thousand miles per minute and he barely knows what’s happening as a sopping wet, shaking weight falls into his arms. 

To say it’s familiar would be a lie. But, as Sicheng pulls Kun into his arms and holds him tight, it might as well be a reflex hardwired into him. 

Sicheng's tongue is tied and he can’t manage to get any words out. He stumbles back a few steps and Guanheng shuts the door behind him, head swivelling from the door to Kun to Sicheng with his mouth wide open. 

“Wh- What?” Guanheng struggles to say anything, either as he continues to gape. “Who?” 

Sicheng sinks to the floor, Kun wrapped in his embrace and tries to hold back his own tears. He can feel Kun’s soaking the thin shirt he’s wearing at a rapid pace. His hands are intertwined into the grubby jacket that Kun wears and he simply sits there, a lump rising in his throat, and struggles to find any words. 

His chest is simultaneously lighter than it’s been in as long as he can remember and weighed down by pure confusion. 

Because, _oh my God_ , Kun is in his arms. Kun, who he hasn’t heard from in months. Kun, who he thought he would never see again. Kun, who he longed for but resigned himself to a life without. And he’s here, in his shabby old apartment while his friend watches them and his father sleeps in the other room. 

“Kun,” Sicheng murmurs, quiet enough that Guanheng would have to strain to hear it. “This is real, right?” 

Kun nods into his neck, body still shuddering as he cries. 

Sicheng can’t help it. He threads his hands into Kun’s sopping, knotty hair and lets his tears fall. They’re not noisy, heart-broken sobs like they were when he got that last letter. Rather, they’re quiet, confused and overwhelmingly happy. 

Kun is _here_. What exactly he is doing here, Sicheng doesn’t know but he doesn’t care to ask right now, either. All he needs is for Kun to be safe and with him. That is enough. 

Sicheng doesn’t know how much time passes before he looks up again. When he does, though, the rain has died back to a monotonous drizzle and Guanheng is still sitting where he was before, still looking lost and still has his mouth partially open. Kun has quietened, too; Sicheng can feel from the small twitches of his body and unsteady breathing that he’s awake, but the tears have stopped. 

Slowly, Sicheng begins to draw himself back. He doesn’t stop touching Kun—it would be torture to pull them apart when they’ve just found each other again—but he moves enough that it’s easier to talk. 

“How’re you here?” Sicheng asks, and his voice is gravelly while his head spins. 

Kun sniffles a few times before answering. “I couldn’t stay anymore, and I knew your address, so…” He trails off for a second and rubs at his eyes with the back of a hand. “I searched the city to find where to go, and then I saw the street sign, and-.” He leans forward and coughs but does not continue talking afterwards. 

Sicheng helps Kun take off his wet outer layer and pushes it away. The shirt underneath is slightly dryer; enough so that he’ll be alright for now. Then, he trails his hand up and down Kun’s back. It feels natural, as if they’ve done this a thousand times rather than it being the first time they’ve touched in three years. 

Guanheng’s eyes flick between the two of them. “You’re… Kun? From Taining?” he asks, hesitant. He looks to Sicheng for confirmation, who nods in return. 

“He knows,” Sicheng says to Kun when Guanheng’s face dawns with understanding. “He found out when I got the letter from Dejun.” 

Kun barely seems aware of Guanheng’s presence as he leans against Sicheng. “From Dejun?” he repeats in a soft voice. 

“In August, last year. I got a letter from him saying that you were missing and the basement was raided.” He chokes up again and struggles to get the words out around the lump in his throat. “I thought you were gone. That I’d never see you again.” 

Under his hands, Sicheng can feel Kun stiffen at those words. “I would never leave you,” he says. The words are slightly slurred and extremely quiet. 

Sicheng peers at him and sees his half-shut eyes. He’s exhausted, it’s obvious. Guanheng seems to pick up on it, too, as he picks up the blanket that Sicheng had been using before and passes it to him. 

The fabric is old and worn, but Kun snuggles into it when Sicheng covers him with it. It takes only a minute before he’s fast asleep in Sicheng’s lap. Absent-minded, Sicheng strokes a finger along the cuff of his ear. 

Neither he nor Guanheng say anything for a long time. Truth be told, Sicheng doesn’t know what to say. His entire life for the past few months has just been turned upside down in, debatably, the best way possible. Kun is with him again and that in itself is a miracle. It doesn't negate the fact that Sicheng is now so emotionally drained that he feels as if he has run ten successive marathons.

“This is Kun?” Guanheng asks again. He stares at the sleeping, blanket-covered man. 

Sicheng nods. He looks down at Kun’s face, observes the curve of his eyes, the line of nose, the soft peak and fall of his lips. This is certainly Kun. Older, thinner and more tired than he remembers, but Kun nonetheless. 

Guanheng wrings his hands together. “I don’t understand. I thought he was…” He trails off and throws a cautious look at Sicheng. “You know, _gone_.” 

“So did I,” Sicheng croaks. “But he’s here. He’s _here_.” A short, hysterical laugh escapes him. 

Shushing him, Guanheng pauses for a minute. “What now?” At Sicheng’s confused look, he continues. “Like you said, he’s here in Wenzhou. Why? For how long? Where’s he going to stay? What’s happening?” 

Sicheng simply shrugs as he tries to hold back a yawn. “In the morning.” Too much has happened for him to string another constructive sentence together. Plus, Kun isn’t even awake to contribute to the conversation. 

There’s a line between Guanheng’s eyebrows, indicative of his doubt, but he nods. “In the morning, then. And if your Dad asks, we’ll say that he’s a friend from Taining who arrived late.”

Sicheng agrees without protest. He hadn’t even got to thinking that far ahead, so perhaps he should consider himself lucky that he has Guanheng here to do that for him. He'll get to that in the morning, though, once his brain catches up with him. 

Guanheng’s expression softens and he sighs. “Okay, then. See you in the morning, I guess.” He shuffles around to the corner he usually inhabits and curls up into a tiny ball. 

Meanwhile, Sicheng strokes Kun’s hair. He’s motionless in his sleep and Sicheng can’t bear to move him. Not now, not after everything that he’s been through. So, he props himself up against the wall, lightly closes his eyes and lets Kun stay in his lap. 

The emotional tax of the past few hours crash down on him like a tonne of bricks. His chest is still buzzing and his mind whirling, but his eyes ache at the idea of being awake for any longer. He rests his hands on Kun’s shoulder and upper arm and holds him tight, scared that he might not be there anymore when he wakes up in the morning or that tonight has just been a fever dream. 

The position is not comfortable, but the reassurance of having Kun in his lap coaxes him to sleep, anyway. 

> _To:_ Kun
> 
> _From:_ Sicheng
> 
> _Date:_ 1981, February 2 (Wenzhou)
> 
> Dear Kun, 
> 
> I don’t know how much you remember of last night, but you’re currently in my (Sicheng’s) house. You were still asleep this morning and I didn’t want to wake you, but I'll get laid off if I don't turn up to work. 
> 
> There’s food in the house, so please eat whatever you want. You can also look around - there’s only two other rooms, the bedroom and the bathroom. My Dad sleeps in the bedroom, but he’s at work at the moment. You can use the bathroom to freshen up a bit, too, if you want. 
> 
> I put some clean clothes next to you so you can change out of the ones you’re wearing at the moment. 
> 
> Kun, I’m going to say this quickly: I love you so so so much. I thought I’d lost you and then I saw you last night and I couldn’t believe it. I’m so happy to see you again that I could cry. I have cried. I will probably cry again this afternoon. 
> 
> I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be with you when you woke up. I have to go to work, though, or I’ll get in trouble and then things might get extremely difficult. Please just stay inside and I’ll see you as soon as possible. 
> 
> I love you so much and I’m so happy that I can see you again,
> 
> Lots of love,
> 
> Sicheng

“Can you tell me what happened?” 

“You said Dejun told you… There was a raid on the basement. They came in one night and caught everyone they could. I got away, but I spent weeks hiding from them before I could actually leave the city.”

“What about before? I’m not angry that you didn’t reply, but I know that I sent my last letter almost two months before the raid happened, according to Dejun.”

“They were trailing me. I couldn’t send a reply because I know they’d read it and follow it to you.” 

“And after? After the raid?” 

“I came to Wenzhou. I had nowhere else to go. I couldn’t stay in Taining, but I’ve never left the city before. You were my only option.”

“How did you get here, though?”

“Any way possible. I didn’t have money, so I hitchhiked where I could. Otherwise, I walked. I’m sorry it took so long.” 

“You don’t need to apologise.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m just glad you’re here and you’re safe. That’s all I could ever wish.” 

> _To:_ Sicheng
> 
> _From:_ Kun
> 
> _Date:_ 1981, February 7 (Wenzhou)
> 
> Dear Sicheng,
> 
> If you read this note, then don’t worry. I’m just walking down to the market to get outside for a bit. 
> 
> Kun

“Kun-ge, I didn’t know you could cook!” Guanheng leans back against the wall with a contented sigh. “God, this is so much better than anything Sicheng can make.” 

Kun gives an embarrassed shrug and Sicheng bites back a smile as he watches. “I do my best. It’s not so hard when you keep it simple.” 

“So modest,” Guanheng says with a wide smile. “And so good after work. Seriously, I’m going to kill the next person who asks me to book a meeting for them. I spend almost my entire life doing it when it would literally be quicker for them to do it themself.” 

“What’s your job?” Kun blinks at him, looking genuinely interested. Sicheng watches with a small smile. Their knees rest against each other as they sit in their small circle and talk. 

Guanheng groans. “Administration assistance. Took me ages to actually get a job in a proper company and now, literally years after I started, barely any of the managers treat me like I’m capable of anything more than the absolute basics.”

“He complains about this on an almost daily basis,” Sicheng interjects, rolling his eyes. “You’ll get used to it.”

Kun nods, thoughtful. “Is it difficult to get a job around here?” He glances at Sicheng and a small frown crosses his face. “I know in the past you’ve said nothing pays well, but…” 

Sicheng hesitates to answer, but Guanheng starts before he could even construct a proper reply. “It depends what type of work you want,” he says, “Because you can find stuff like factory work fairly easily. Crappy pay, but it’s a job. Anything more qualified is hard to get, though, because for ages qualified people would come to get those jobs and force out anyone who is looking to start.”

“You don’t need a job, though,” Sicheng hurries to add. The thought makes his stomach twist. Kun is his own person and Sicheng does not object to him living his own life. But, he’s been in Wenzhou for less than a week. He’s barely gone outside for longer than half an hour at a time and he doesn’t even know his way around the city yet. 

Honestly, Sicheng is scared. 

The last week has been a turning point of understanding. He loves Kun so much it hurts, but having that relationship in person is so different from long-distance letter writing. Now that they're together again, Sicheng wants to safeguard him, never let him enter a position where he could end up in the same situation. He doesn't have the right to holding that control over Kun, but it doesn't stop him from worrying. 

Kun’s hand brushes against his thigh. “I want to find one eventually. One that doesn’t require, uh, background checks and the rest,” he says, trailing off at the end. 

According to Kun, he has long since lost any law enforcement members that were on his trail in Taining. That doesn’t stop an underlying layer of paranoia. Kun’s reluctance to go out too often is founded on more than the fact that he doesn’t know how to orientate himself. 

“You don’t need to,” Sicheng insists. “Between Dad, me and Guanheng, you’re fine to stay here.” 

Kun bites his lip. “I don’t think I should stay here, though,” he says quietly. 

Sicheng’s stomach flips and his hands immediately go clammy. “You’re leaving?” He can’t stand another separation. After everything, he doesn’t have the strength to go through that again. It would be too much the second time around. 

Eyes widening, Kun shakes his head. “I’m staying in Wenzhou. I mean, like, _here_. Your neighbours look at me funny. I can’t afford to raise suspicion. It’s too dangerous for, well, everyone.” He meets Sicheng’s eyes for a moment before they flicker away to Guanheng. 

Guanheng frowns and props his chin on his hand. 

Sicheng, though, can’t think. “No, you’re safe here,” he says, “Screw what the neighbours think. I’ve told anyone who asked that you’re my friend from Taining who doesn’t have anywhere to go at the moment. You can stay here.” 

His stomach plummets when Guanheng shakes his head. “No, he’s got a point. Even if you say he’s your friend, it’s weird that he doesn’t have a job and it’ll only get worse if he stays for long.” He looks at Kun with an apologetic expression. “Sorry.” 

Kun shrugs and gives him a weak smile. “It’s fine.” 

“No, it’s fine,” Sicheng says. The words catch in his throat and Kun looks up to meet his gaze. “I can’t lose you again,” he says after a pause. 

Swallowing, Kun shuffles closer to Sicheng. Out of the corner of his eye, Sicheng sees Guanheng looking away from them, perhaps to give them some privacy, but obviously deep in thought. “You won’t. Not again. I’m not leaving, but if you want this to last in the long-term, then we’ve got to find some sort of arrangement. We're asking for trouble, otherwise.”

His voice is too strong to be a truthful representation of his emotions. Kun has just spent months travelling in gruelling conditions to follow the address on the back of a letter, all the while evading the law. He’s a strong person, but he’s not immune to vulnerability. 

Since the first night when Kun slept for almost half a day straight, his sleep has been almost as bad as Sicheng’s. Can’t get to sleep, can’t wake up and all the while napping so lightly that the slightest noise sends him jolting upright in a panic. 

Realistically, Sicheng understands that this isn’t necessarily what Kun wants. Rather, it’s the easiest method of plausible defence that keeps everyone in this room safe. As much as Kun and Sicheng are wrong in the eyes of the government, Guanheng is guilty by association for not reporting it. 

He and Kun lock eyes and it comes spilling through. The fear, the restlessness, the knowledge that there is no way to make this work easily. His eyes are overly bright; like his voice, they present an image of confidence and hide the anxiety behind the outward glamour. 

Guanheng’s head snaps up. “I’ve got it,” he says. A grin lights up his face as he glances between Sicheng and Kun. “My place.”

“Your place,” Sicheng repeats, blank. The words peruse around his brain and then, like a puzzle piece falling into place, they click. “ _Your place._ ” 

“His place.” Kun sounds dubious as he flicks between the two others. “What’s his place?” 

Sicheng turns to him, butterflies flooding his stomach en masse. “Do you remember? I mentioned it in our letters. He moved out of his place a while back, and we were putting it back together so he could sell it. He never sold it and it’s pretty much been made livable again.” 

“We’d just have to patch the guttering to make sure it’s not going to flood again, probably wipe down the walls and floor again, and it’d be good to go!” Guanheng chirps. “I mean, I know it’s a tiny basement with no window, but it’d definitely be a functional place to stay.” 

Kun’s eyes are blown wide as he stares at Guanheng in amazement. “And, that’d be okay? For me to stay there?” 

Guanheng nods, eager. “It’d be fine. Great, even, because it’s still close to here and that would mean you two can come and go when you like and I can always swap if you want any alone time.” He wiggles his eyebrows at the end and Sicheng snorts in laughter. 

“I’ll get Yukhei to come help me with finishing the last touch-ups on the weekend,” Guanheng continues, “And then you can move in as soon as you want.” 

Sicheng’s cheeks ache from smiling, but his grin widens even more when he sees the clear relief and happiness on Kun’s face as he says, “You’re incredible. Thank you.” 

Guanheng rolls his shoulders and twists his head an awkward snake-like pattern in embarrassment. “It’s fine,” he insists, waving his hands. “Win-win situation, really. I can show you where it is tomorrow after work, if you want.” 

Kun nods, eager, and Sicheng rests his head on his shoulder as he listens to the two of them talk. 

It’s not all perfect, and it might never be, but this seems as good a place to start as any. 

> _To:_ Yukhei
> 
> _From:_ Sicheng
> 
> _Date:_ 1981, March 23 (Wenzhou)
> 
> Dear Yukhei,
> 
> Thank you so much for your help last weekend! It was amazing that we were able to do all of that in such a short space of time and your height was definitely a crucial factor in that. 
> 
> In any case, it would be nice to spend some time together at some point soon so that I can introduce you properly to Kun, a friend from when I was living in Taining. You seemed to get on well anyway, but it’d be nice to do something all together at some point. 
> 
> Let me know what times might work.
> 
> Sicheng. 

Sicheng lies against Kun’s chest and relishes in the warmth of human contact. Kun is a warm, steady presence and his chest vibrates pleasantly whenever he speaks. He has held out for a whole six days to get to the one day that they both have entirely off. He feels absolutely no guilt at all that he’s spending it all with Kun. 

“Thank you for coming back,” Sicheng says softly. He plays with Kun’s hands, tracing the knuckles with his finger. 

Kun tucks his chin over Sicheng’s shoulder. “I never could have stayed away. Not really, I don’t think.” His breath is warm and tickles Sicheng’s ear. “It would have taken more than the law to keep me away forever.” 

Sicheng hums and they coexist in the quiet for a moment. It’s not an awkward silence. Neither of them feel the need to fill it. When it’s like this, it’s nice, easy, comfortable. The pauses are just as good as the talking.

“Do you remember when we first started writing?” Sicheng asks after a while. He feels Kun’s agreement as he nods. “Did you really love me all the way back then?” 

Kun does not speak for a moment as he contemplates his answer. “When we first started writing? No, I didn’t. I did by the time you said it, though.” A few seconds pass before he continues. “For the longest time, I didn’t think I’d ever fall in love. I didn’t want to, because all I ever saw was it ending in tragedy for people like us.”

“And then?” Sicheng prompts. 

“And then I met you, and for the longest time, I refused to hope. It seemed too unrealistic. Suppose no one ever told the heart to listen to logic, though. I fell in love with you through the letters and the memories I had of you in person.” 

Sicheng nodded and waited another moment before speaking. “I think I fell in love with you as soon as I met you. At least a little bit. I was really gone by that night where we talked about hope, though.”

“I know. You didn’t exactly try to hide it,” Kun said. 

Sicheng pushes himself into a seated position and swivels so that he and Kun are face to face, separated by barely the length of his hand. 

“I’ve been saying I love you for over two years,” Sicheng says. He stares into Kun’s dark eyes and then glances at his lips. “It’s been two years and I still haven’t got to kiss you.” 

Since Kun had moved into Guanheng’s old place the previous weekend, they have barely been alone. As much as Sicheng has been desperate to kiss and touch Kun in a way he's been denied for so many years, he wants to save it for a moment that they will both remember.

Kun’s mouth twitches into a smile. “Perhaps we should fix that, then.” 

Before Sicheng knows what is happening, Kun is drawing closer and so is he. There is split-second where he sees everything in vivid detail and then his world explodes into technicolour. 

Kun’s lips are soft and warm against his. It’s like a level of heaven that he never knew was accessible on Earth. He can’t pull away; he just wants to keep taking and taking and taking. 

Sicheng is vaguely aware of Kun’s hands working themselves into his hair as he pulls him in closer. He melts into the touch and falls further into the kiss. It’s oddly wet, but the absolutely the best feeling he can ever remember. He never wants it to stop. 

Except, he needs to breathe and so does Kun, so they pull apart, both panting with spit-slick, puffy lips. They stare at each other for a moment and then dissolve into giggles simultaneously. 

It’s ridiculous, but it’s perfect. Perfect for them. Sicheng shuffles closer on his knees and presses another kiss onto his cheek.

“We can christen this place properly later, then,” Sicheng says, pressing himself as close to Kun’s body as he can manage. He winks, and Kun flicks him gently in return. 

“You wish.” 

“Maybe, but so do you.” 

It’s as close to hope for the future as they’ll get. They know the risks they’re taking, they’ve witnessed them first hand, but somehow it’s still worth it. After every time Sicheng thinks about it, he comes to the same conclusion: he would sacrifice anything just to come back to this moment with Kun. 

> _To:_ Xiao Dejun
> 
> _From:_ Dong Sicheng
> 
> _Date:_ 1981, July 31 (Wenzhou - Taining)
> 
> Dear Dejun, 
> 
> I know it’s been almost a year, and you probably won’t be expecting to hear from me. I hope this letter finds you well, though, and that you’re doing okay back in Taining. 
> 
> I wanted to give you a brief update on the situation here: I found Kun. He’s safe and he’s here with me. I shouldn’t say more. 
> 
> I hope to see you soon. I’ve missed hearing from you.
> 
> Sicheng (and Kun). 

  
  


**part 4**

> _To:_ Kun
> 
> _From:_ Sicheng
> 
> _Date:_ 1997, 26 June 
> 
> Kun,
> 
> I can say I love you now, and for the first time ever, I’m legally allowed to.
> 
> I love you. I’ve loved you for so many years, ever since we first met in a crappy, mostly-illegal basement. I’ve loved you in the good times and the bad, the easy and the rough, the past and the future. 
> 
> (It’s much easier to be sappy in a letter, isn’t it?)
> 
> But Kun-ge, I want you to know. I’m so happy that it’s you. I told you hope would keep us going.
> 
> All of my love,
> 
> Sicheng

He folds the letter into neat thirds and rises from the kitchen table they bought a few years ago. 

The kitchen itself is empty aside from Sicheng right now. He glances around the off-white walls. The flat they live in is small, but infinitely nicer than anything they've lived in before. The tiny, everything-in-one-room flat where he lived in Taining and Kun's several-year-long stint in Guanheng's basement is a distant memory now. 

As he walks through to the main room, Sicheng is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. He sees Kun, legs curled up beneath himself as he reads a book on the couch. 

“Kun-ge,” he says, dropping down next to him. “You heard what happened?”

Kun puts his book down, pages splayed outwards to mark his place. A soft smile crosses his face as he smiles. “I did.”

Sicheng hands him the letter and grins when Kun raises an eyebrow. As he begins to read, Sicheng leans his head on Kun’s shoulder. From this position, he can see his own handwriting and the slight quiver in Kun’s hands as he gets further down. 

There is a long minute of silence as Kun considers the letter. Finally, he sets it down—gently, as if it is a priceless artefact—and presses a kiss to the crown of Sicheng’s head before leaning his cheek against the same point. 

“You could have said it out loud.” Sicheng can feel his face moving as he speaks.

He smiles. “A letter felt more special.”

Kun takes a moment before he replies. “I love you, too. More than you know.” He readjusts his position and wraps his arms around Sicheng.

“I know.” Sicheng nestles into the warmth. “But I did tell you, didn’t I? Hope would keep us going.”

Kun hums an agreement. “You did.” He doesn’t say any more, but he doesn’t need to. They’ve loved each other for almost thirty years and lived together for the vast majority of that. They’re not perfect, but they do know each other almost inside out. 

Sicheng twists to peck Kun’s lips and loops his arms around Kun's torso and hugs him like tomorrow will never come. 

Decriminalisation doesn’t mean they’re accepted yet, or even that they’re really safe. Truth be told, Sicheng doesn’t know whether he’ll ever see that where they come from. But, it’s changing and with the right trajectory, too. It’s a start, and that’s something that Sicheng had once only been able to imagine happening in his wildest dreams. 

Those hopes and dreams that he and Kun discussed all those years ago feel so far away now. Some of the ones he barely dared to think of are beginning to happen in other parts of the world.

But here, curled up with Kun in their own little flat, Sicheng knows his favourite dream to cling to has already come true. He's got everything he had ever hoped for here in his arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> Whoop whoop lets go with the song lyric title bc I don't have a clue what to call this. I shuffled the WayV playlist, ended up with We go Nanana, searched up the lyrics and choose the first thing that caught my eye. I know, solid 10/10 effort for title. 
> 
> Anyway, other notes: This was the most hellish thing I have ever had to edit. The quote formatting actually robbed me of my will to live. Not even pictures are this bad. 
> 
> What is pacing? Who knows. Please don't be too mean about it :( 
> 
> As I mentioned, this historical side of this was loosely interpreted. Some of it is more accurate than other bits... If you're curious at all, you can ask and I can tell you if it's real or I just made it up ha. But, one point I will clear up immediately: homosexuality was decriminalised in China in 1997. Obviously, that has not ended homophobia in China - it's still a massive problem that exists today - but it was an important step nonetheless. 
> 
> Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed it? Let me know if you have any thoughts! Feedback always makes me very happy :)


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